On July 2, when the sun here in Moscow is finally shot down by those forces of nature, I’ll turn on my TV set to watch a fight between the long-time terror of the heavyweight division and his brash-talking, ass-whooping heir apparent (or a wannabe of ass-whooping heir apparent as was boldly underlined by Wladimir Klitschko in his recent face off with David Haye, mediated by Max Kellerman) for the unified championship.
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